Eighteenth Story
by stress
Summary: COMPLETE: Four times when Rosalie saved Emmett -- and one time she let him be the hero. EmmettxRosalie, set Pre-Twilight.
1. angel

Disclaimer: _The characters in this story are the property of Stephenie Meyer and are only used for fan related purposes. The lyrics included at the top of this chapter are © 2005 to Nickelback; no copyright infringement was meant._

_--_

**Eighteenth Story**

--

_Prison gates won't open up for me  
On these hands and knees I'm crawlin'  
Oh, I reach for you_

--

**Smoky Mountains, Tennessee, 1935**

They say that, when you're just about to die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. I'm here to tell you that ain't true—not by a long shot. I'd already lived my life once, I'm pretty sure I would have recognized it if it played like one of them pictures, running before my head again.

Instead, when I was dying, all there was was pain and regret. I'll admit it; my strength had nothing on the damn grizzly. My rifle tossed, forgotten, and my jacket as thin as paper to its claws, the bear attacked me without even a fair warning. One minute, I was shooting deer; the next, I was on my back, bleeding out, with one hell of an irritable grizzly hovering over me.

I don't know why the beast didn't kill me right away. Maybe, in a way, he was as surprised by me as I was by him. He was a sight, this big, brown grizzly, and, if I wasn't thinking my last thoughts—thoughts of regret at all the things I'd never done… and some things I _did_ do—I might've marveled at the sheer size of the thing.

And I thought _I_ was huge…

The pain was intense, white hot heat from the claw marks that covered my chest and my arms. I'd hit my head on a rock as I fell, I'd heard the crack as it hit, and my head was pounding in rhythm to the blood that was spilling down my torso; the blood only made the pain feel stronger as I waited desperately to die.

He was toying with me, the brute. He let out a roar that, if I'd been myself, I might've yelled back at it in response. But I wasn't myself—Emmett McCarty as I'd known him was fading fast.

The last thought I had was this: Mama's gonna kill me for getting myself killed up in the mountains.

And then I died. At least, I think I did.

My memories were getting kind of hazy at that point.

There was a loud sound, a roar that seemed to be even louder than the one I'd heard coming from the other bear. I wondered if another one had followed the scent of my blood. I wanted to laugh. Lying there, somewhere between dead and alive—but definitely closer to being dead, if not dead already—I had the mad urge to laugh. Someone was challenging that monster to my carcass.

Well, if I had to die this early, at least I'd leave a legacy like that. I just hoped the newcomer killed the bastard that'd killed me.

There was a crash, a clap that sounded almost like thunder, and a low growl that told me that one of the fighters had bit it, just like me. I couldn't see anything from my place on the dirt path but I was silently hoping that the thump I heard was the body of the grizzly bear joining me on the ground. It was a vindictive thought but, after all, it had just mauled me to death.

I heard another sound, but it didn't sound human at all. It was a mournful noise, almost like a mix between a cry and a snarl. It didn't sound human, and it didn't sound like a bear. I was relieved I was already dead—I didn't want to face anything that could kill a bear _and_ make a noise like that.

There were no heavy footsteps, no signs that the newcomer had moved at all. But, suddenly, I felt a gentle touch and I knew that I wasn't on the ground anymore. My head was resting against something that was much softer than the rock it'd hit. It took me a moment—my senses and my sense had vanished for the most part when I died, I'll say—before I realized that someone—_thing_—had lifted me up and was holding me.

Struggling, I moved my head back and I looked up into the face of the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen.

I knew then, for certain, that I was dead.

She was an angel, no doubt about that. And it wasn't even her heavenly beauty that made me think that.

But she was beautiful, more beautiful than anyone—_thing_—I'd ever seen before. With eyes the color of darkened gold—so dark they were almost as black as night—and wavy hair the color of straw, she had a glow about her. Her face was perfect, exquisite in every detail; from her perfect nose to her perfect ruby red lips, she was everything I'd ever dreamed a woman could be, and then some.

There really was a glow to her, and I would've sworn I could see a halo wafting over her head. I wondered if there were wings stretched out behind her back but I couldn't tell; my head couldn't move enough to see.

We were flying, though, moving at a pace that—as I struggled to keep my eyelids open—I could see nothing but a mixture of greens and browns and whites as we sped by. She held me close to her, cradling me like a babe. For all the bulk I'd had as a human, she was carrying me as if I weighed nothing. My eternal soul must be as light as a feather.

My eyes wanted to close, to admit I'd lost at last and let my consciousness slip away into that place all dead souls go. But I couldn't let that happen. The pain was still there, which surprised me, but I thought of nothing but the angel who carried me so easily. I couldn't remove my eyes from her face, not for one moment.

She was an angel, whisking my soul away. I was sure of it. But, still, we continued to fly. Was Heaven really that far away?

I was glad, though, that the trip was long. Any second now, I knew that we'd arrive and this vision of wonder would disappear for forever. I would fly forever with her, clutched to her bosom, if I could—I never wanted to land.

The journey was long but, at the same time, it was not long enough. We'd arrived; in that entire time, I'd never once removed my weary eyes from the splendor of her face.

I'd never been a God fearing man. The way I figure it, God left us McCarty's to pot long ago. How else could I explain the world as it was? The way my brothers and sisters go hungry, the way my pa can't find any work… besides, I'd long ago come to terms that, when my time came, my place was in the fiery pits of Hell. I'd stopped counting my sins; small as most of them were, there were plenty.

But, as my angel finally descended, and I prepared to meet God, I have to admit that I was nervous. The pain was still there—pounding in a rhythm I couldn't understand—but it was nothing compared to the terror I felt as I waited for judgment. I'd only just met this angel and she was going to be taken away from me.

My mama tried her best, bless her, and I went to Sunday school every week and I remembered some of what I'd been told. When my angel laid me down, when she set me at the feet of her master, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. God didn't look nothing like what I'd imagined.

He shared many of the same features as my angel; his hair was blond, his face was angelic, his eyes were gold. But he was young—barely older than I'd been. What happened to the aged wisdom and the flowing white beard? Vaguely, I felt like I'd been lied to… but what did it matter, really? I was dead and this man was God, who'd come to me to judge me for my sins. I had more than enough to worry about.

They were speaking to one another, the angel and the Lord, but the sounds were far too beautiful, too majestic, for my dull once-human ears. I caught hints of murmurs and, once, I thought I might've heard a hum that sounded like someone was pleading.

If this _was_ judgment, was the blonde angel pleading for me?

I didn't know but, as long as she was there, I didn't care. My head felt heavy, there was a cloud of black that threatened to overtake me, but I kept my eyes open. If I closed my eyes, if I lost sight of the angel, she would be gone, I knew. She'd be gone and I'd be alone, left to rot in the mountains of Tennessee forever; well, whatever the damn grizzlies didn't eat would be left to rot…

It seemed like an eternity before the judgment came. But it did come, God nodded at me with a very serious look on his perfect face, and the angel looked at me with such radiance that I thought that dying wasn't half bad if an angel came to take you away from the world.

"Rosalie," the Lord murmured, leaning over me, "are you sure?"

His words were clear, even with my head so heavy and muddled, and I didn't even wonder what he meant. I was just too darn happy to see my angel nod her head as she moved to stand by my side. She wasn't leaving me just yet.

"Please," she whispered and my body and soul responded to the sound of her voice. I'd never heard anything more beautiful, so heart-breaking, in my life… or my death.

The fire came then, and I realized I'd never known pain until I'd known this. I was in Hell, surely, like I'd always figured, but the hurt only increased when I knew that there was no way such a precious being, like my blonde angel, could stay with me in this inferno.

But she did. I don't what I'd done in my twenty years to deserve her presence at my side in this pit, but she was there.

Rosalie, God had called her, such a beautiful name for such a beautiful creature.

Rosalie, my saving grace.

Rosalie, my angel.

* * *

Author's Note: _I absolutely adore the relationship between Emmett and Rosalie, and I've been meaning to write a short piece about them for the last couple of weeks. I signed up for the twilightathon on livejournal—the prompt was Rosalie/Emmett, Saving me—and this is the result. I hope you enjoy it!_

_Edit: Also, I'd thought this was obvious but I guess I was mistaken. This chapter is based on the outtakes from the first book, when Emmett is telling Bella about his first meeting with the bear and with Rosalie. I took the premise that was cut from the book and, for the purposes of working closely with canon for Emmett's story, I expanded it. I never intended it to be seen as plagiarism so, just so any readers know: the idea for Emmett's last scene before being changed is Stephenie Meyer's, as is mostly everything else in this fic. This short story is based on the few lines we have about Emmett and Rosalie's relationship; due to my desire to stay as close to canon as possible, there are few original main ideas for the chapters -- it's the description that I hope does this justice._


	2. newborn

Disclaimer: _The characters in this story are the property of Stephenie Meyer and are only used for fan related purposes. The lyrics included at the top of this chapter are © 2005 to Nickelback; no copyright infringement was meant._

_--_

**Eighteenth Story**

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_Well I'm terrified of these four walls  
These iron bars can't hold my soul in  
All I need is you_

--

**Hoquiam, Washington, 1936**

The way I figured it, being a vampire wasn't all that bad. You lived forever, you were as fast as lightning and strong as heck. Nope, couldn't think of any real downsides.

Well, except for the whole drinking blood thing, of course, the thirst.

The thirst was bad, and sometimes it was _really _bad. Nothing mattered to me at all when I felt the thirst—I became every inch of the monster that I was. Venom rising in my throat, my eyes blazing red, I _was _a vampire and I wanted blood.

Carlisle—the leader of my coven and, unfortunately, _not _the Lord—told me again and again that I'd grow past the temptation in time. I wasn't exactly sure I believed him. Actually, I thought he was pretty much full of it.

It was easy to see how I'd mistaken him for a merciful god, though. He gave me a new life and was patient and understanding as I sinned. The sins were coming farther and fewer between as my first year—the toughest of the many that would follow, Carlisle had explained—finally came to an end, but sometimes it was just too much.

Animal blood was good enough but it was no substitute for the real thing. To thirst for human blood was a craving, a constant burn, and it took all my strength to resist it.

I was strong but I wasn't _that _strong…

It wasn't even my fault, not really. I'd hunted only last weekend, joining Carlisle and Edward in the Cascades. Edward had his fair share of a careless mountain lion; I enjoyed every bit of the first grizzly I'd come across. _And_ I was home, snug in our sanctuary. Why was it suddenly so damn tough?

They never said, but I knew the Cullens—my new family, now that I was dead as a McCarty—had moved when I was turned. I was just glad to be away from all the humans around Tennessee. Sometimes on these sleepless nights, when I stared into the starry sky, I wondered what I would have done if I met my mama again. I tried not to think about it much; despite the care and support I got from Carlisle and Esme, I've already got too much blood on my hands.

Our home in Hoquiam was beautiful but, thank the Lord, very secluded. We were given quite a berth by the rest of the townspeople; it was strange to see how our prey reacted to our presence. We were damn good looking to them but hell if they didn't stay away from us.

But not all of them. The foolish ones, the ones who thought themselves brave… they came. And I was _thirsty_.

I ain't all that sure if I caught their scent first, but they were scents I couldn't mistake. Two humans on the edge of our land. Unprotected—and utterly delicious.

Edward was playing his piano. I watched as my new brother tensed but he never looked away from the keys. Carlisle and Esme were sitting together, hand in hand, whispering to each other. Ordinarily I could make out their hushed words but not then. There was too much on my mind and they were casually ignoring my pain.

The burn was becoming unbearable.

I was aware, as always, of Rosalie's presence in the far corner of the parlor. She was sitting, still like stone, on some fancy chair. A mirror was in her hand and her golden eyes were fixated on her reflection. In a brief moment of relief from the tantalizing smell of warm human blood, I longed for her to look my way. But she didn't; no matter what I did, or how hard I tried, my angel only had eyes for herself.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I was out of my seat like a shot. The old, wooden chair rocked on its back feet, almost lifted off of the floor with the force of my exit. I was already out of the house, flying through the forests that surrounded our home, before it fell.

There was so much venom in my throat that I could feel it welling up under my tongue. Like some feral beast, like a wild animal, it dribbled out of my open mouth, small splatters of drool flying behind me as I ran toward my prey. I could almost feel my teeth sinking into their flesh—the way my lust for their blood would be slaked.

In that instant, it wasn't man versus man; it was monster versus victim. I was a vampire, Carlisle be damned. The bear had done nothing for me—I needed to _feed_.

I never made it to the edge of the land, to where the foolish humans waited innocently to meet their doom. So preoccupied in making sure that I reached them before I drowned in my own thirst, I hadn't realized that I'd been followed. I didn't notice until an abrupt force barreled straight into me, hitting me harder than I thought was possible, knocking me to the dirt.

My vampire reflexes were amazing, something that I'd finally gotten used to. Only a second passed between me being hit and me flipping in the air, landing warningly in a predatory crouch, and I was mad. I bared my teeth as, through my bloodlust, I searched out the idiot who was coming between me and my supper.

Rosalie…

She stood there like an avenging angel, her long wavy hair flying around her, settling now that she'd stopped running. Her arms were on her hips and she was frowning like mad. I'd never seen anything so beautiful, yet so terrible.

It didn't even occur to me to marvel at how fast she'd given chase, or why exactly she'd followed me. I didn't know how someone as thin as Rosalie could knock someone as huge as me down. I was too consumed by her presence.

For all these months I'd watched her, joked with her, tried to get her to feel one smidge of the affection I felt for her but, apart from the time when I changed—when she never left my side—I barely got her to look my way.

She was looking now—and I could tell that she didn't like what she saw.

The hair on my arms was standing up as I realized I was still crouching down. My thirst coupled with pain and rejection made me stupid. I didn't rise; I stared at her, snarling under my breath.

She didn't move.

"What are you doing here?" I growled, trying to get some sort of response out of her.

Rosalie blinked but said nothing. Her frown deepened, though, and I would have wagered that was a look of shame on her face. She was ashamed of me.

The weight of her stare was heavy and I felt even more like a monster. I wished Carlisle had been the one to chase after me, or even Edward, smug bastard he could be. Anything was better than seeing Rosalie—than letting my angel see me when I was so darn weak.

Esme told me once that Rosalie, in her newborn year—and after—had never tasted human blood and there I was, desperate to kill again just so I could satisfy my own needs. It was no wonder she looked so ashamed. _I _was ashamed too, and I was angry.

The anger rose up out of nowhere and I was angry for no other reason than I was so ashamed. I wasn't worthy of this goddess standing before me.

What I did next made me even more worthless: I challenged her.

My roar was low and guttural but it grew in both size and pitch. I heard a couple of birds squawking and their wings flapping in panic in response to my cry but Rosalie… she didn't even flinch. And that's when I lunged at her.

I was strong but she was quick. My thirst made me careless, my anger made me distracted and my swings were wild. She dodged my blows effortlessly, determination etched into every line of her beautiful face.

She hit me once with such force that it knocked me back down to the ground. I spat out a mouthful of venom, surprised at the strike. But not as surprised as I was to see the way she was looking at me now.

Rosalie was still frowning but there was a softer look around her eyes. It reminded me of the very first time I'd laid eyes on her, the time when I fell madly in love with her.

But she didn't love me.

I had to look away from her. It hurt too much to witness her heavenly beauty and I was already battling other desires—I couldn't afford to lose myself in her again.

"Emmett!"

My head shot up at the sound of her voice. I couldn't speak, for shame and anger, and only managed a growl back at her.

She lowered herself into an answering crouch, staring me down. Her words were clipped, short and hard, as she yelled, "Forget the humans, Emmett, and remember the treaty Carlisle made. You know you can't do this. The dogs will kill you!"

Her words were meaningless to me just then. I wasn't afraid of the werewolves, and what did I care if Carlisle had made that treaty with a flea-bitten pack? I was a vampire, too, and I needed to hunt!

"I don't care," I rumbled, baring my teeth again. In the heat of my anger, I let my passion for Rosalie fuel the fire. What did it matter to her if I died? Maybe that's why she ignored me for so long now. Did she regret saving me in the first place?

"You don't," she snapped back, breaking the composure I'd never seen her without, "but I do!"

I wasn't sure that I heard her right. Or, I did hear her but I didn't understand what she meant, not one bit.

In that moment, the red of my bloodlust faded, only to be replaced by gold. The gold of her hair, the gold of her eyes, the gold of her very worth… I was staring at her, and there was something in her eyes, something I couldn't figure. I assumed the worst and spoke my mind.

"Why did you come?" I demanded. "If you regret making me a vampire so much, why did you come?"

"Regret?"

Even in my current senseless state, I couldn't miss the look of hurt that danced across her face. It was as if a mask had cracked and, for the first time, I was seeing the real Rosalie.

But I was an idiot who didn't know when to keep my trap shut. It hurt me to be so close to her when she was all I ever wanted. It wasn't about supper anymore—I don't think it ever had been. When I was alive, I'd had a habit of eating when I was down; that habit seemed to be just as strong now that I was a vampire. It hurt me and, without meaning to, I took my suffering out on her.

"Yeah. Regret. Don't tell me that ain't pure regret I see in your eyes." It was a bluff. I didn't know what it was that she was hiding from me but, once I started yapping, I couldn't stop. Those humans I'd been so keen on eating were a memory as I stared back at her. I growled again. "Maybe we would've both been better off if you let that bear get me."

It was lies, all of it. Even if I had to spend the rest of my existence wanting but never having, I would do it, I knew, just to be near her. I would even try to deny my urges for human blood if it meant I could stay with her.

Of course, I didn't tell her none of that. Unlike Edward, Rosalie couldn't read minds. I sure wished she could—she would've known I didn't mean a word of what I'd said. It was my temper talking, that was all.

My words did something then that my strength couldn't do: they hurt her. She hadn't been able to dodge them.

She wasn't like an ordinary dame. Even if she wasn't a vampire and could cry, I don't she would have shed a tear at the heartless way I was treating her. I had the sudden desire to tell her I was sorry but I never had the chance. She moved too fast for me to see but I sure felt it when her open palm, heavy as a rock, slammed straight into the side of my face.

Rosalie _slapped _me.

I was so surprised by her action that I didn't even remember my new reflexes. I didn't land on my feet; instead, the ground shook as I landed on my back.

"Never," she said, her voice high and clear as she moved to tower over me, "say that to me again. I have not, not for one minute, regretted taking you with me, having you changed. If anything, I'm just sorry that I stole your humanity. You deserved better, and I was selfish… but never regretful."

If it wasn't for the fact that I'd already died, I would have sworn my heart stopped then and there.

I didn't move from the ground. Suddenly reminded of that first time I'd met Rosalie—the time that I died, the first time she saved me—I couldn't find the strength to move. As if I hadn't known it before, from that first time I laid eyes on her, she had me entirely under her spell.

I would die (if I could) before I hurt her again. There was a physical ache I felt, more pain than I'd been in since my transformation, and it was all because of that reaction she'd had. Rosalie had looked pained, had looked hurt, and that made _my _heart hurt.

"Rose, no…" My voice was hoarse, my throat dry. I couldn't figure it, but the venom that had tried to drown me was gone. "It's me, I'm sor—"

She shook her head regally, cutting me off before I could finish. The mask was back in place, beautiful and cold, unbreakable. If it wasn't for the memory of her hand upon my cheek, her voice ringing in my head, I might've thought I imagined the whole exchange.

"Get up, Emmett," she ordered then, her voice firm yet soft. "We're going home."

_We_.

_Home_.

Obediently, I got to my feet and, in one bound, I was beside her, my head hung in shame. The thirst was still there—Edward told me once that it would always be there—but it was nothing compared to the feelings I had for this woman. She scared me, excited me, humbled and amazed me. Plus, she had a slap that could knock your cheek right off your face.

Her ruby red lips were drawn and her jaw was set. But, this close, I could see her eyes and there was fire in them. I didn't know quite exactly what that meant and I was pretty damn sure that she wasn't about to tell me, not after the stunt I'd just pulled.

But that was all right. I had all eternity to unravel the mystery that was Rosalie Hale.

* * *

Author's Note: _Thank you so much for the awesome reviews on the first chapter! I was very excited and, as such, decided to finish up the next chapter to post today. Emmett's voice is a little different in this one—I'm hoping to convey his growth (from human to new vampire and beyond) as each chapter progresses. That, and his relationship with Rosalie, of course ;)_


	3. wait

Disclaimer: _The characters in this story are the property of Stephenie Meyer and are only used for fan related purposes. The lyrics included at the top of this chapter are © 2005 to Nickelback; no copyright infringement was meant._

_--_

**Eighteenth Story**

--

_Say it for me  
Say it to me  
And I'll leave this life behind me  
Say it if it's worth saving me_

--

"You see that, Emmett? Looks like sun."

His clear voice broke over my head, distracting me from my thoughts. Almost lazily, I looked over at Edward before lifting my head up in order to follow Edward's gaze. Using one of my hands to shield my eyes, I saw that he was right. We were still in Washington—which meant plenty of cloud cover—but there was a break in the clouds coming up. For the first time in weeks, I could actually spy some blue up there.

"Yup," I answered, lowering my head again, resting my chin against my chest. I was sitting on the porch, leaning with my back up against the front door. It was comfortable and I was sure I looked the picture of ease. Well, except for the way I kept bouncing my leg up and down in anticipation.

I don't know who I was fooling. Me, I guess, 'cause I had one sure case of the jitters. And there was no denying that.

I wasn't fooling Edward either. With his special gift of getting inside my head, my adopted brother knew me better than I knew myself. I hadn't even needed to ask him to sit outside with me as I waited; he'd just followed me out onto the porch earlier this morning.

He was standing on the other end of the porch, his hands in his trouser pockets, as he kept his eyes on the sky. He was paler than a ghost and as still as a statue but I knew better than to be taken in by him. He was just as busy thinking as I was. Even if, in his case, he was thinking about what I was thinking.

Ah, look what I'd done. Now I was thinking about what he was thinking about what I was thinking…

I shook my head and closed my eyes. I'd better stick to thinking about things I had a handle on—like what was happening today.

I couldn't wait and I could feel the wide grin stretching my face. It seems like I'd been waiting a lifetime for this moment; I was gonna savor it while I could.

Edward, on the other hand, was hell bent on provoking me. Well, if it gave him his kicks, who was I to deprive him?

"Nervous, Emmett? I know you weren't expecting the sun."

"The sun can't hurt me, Edward, and I ain't afraid of it," I answered smartly. "I ain't afraid of anything."

"Not even such commitment?" I could hear the scoff in his offhanded teasing tone. He could tell I meant it and, in the spirit of our brotherhood, it was his duty as the—in one sense at least, he liked to argue—older brother to try to knock me down a couple of pegs. Not that I was going to let him do that today; despite my jitters and my nerves, I was already floating on cloud nine.

I slowly opened my eyes and there was Edward, standing over me, an uneven smile on his youthful face. Not only was he fast, but he was damn quiet, too. I hadn't even heard the wind rustle as he moved.

I barely batted an eyelash as I boasted, "Nope. Nothing scares me."

"Liar," he accused and, unless I was imagining it, he sounded gleeful.

"I am not," I responded automatically, my hands tightening into fists of their own accord. He was calling me a coward, calling me yellow—I don't care who does it, I won't stand for it. "You want to take that back?"

I didn't mean to sound so defensive but he didn't seem to mind. He offered a low laugh in response and the noise ruffled my feathers even more. I growled under my breath. I'd been a vampire for a handful of years now and my temper was as under control as ever… but, I'll admit it, the jitters were making me antsy.

"Calm down, Emmett, I was only kidding with you. Besides," he added, and his tone was softer, "Rosalie's just as nervous as you are. Worse, actually," he added and I knew this was his way of making amends for poking fun at me on today of all days; normally he kept the thoughts he overheard to himself, "since she's already set her hair three times this afternoon. I wonder if she'll ever be ready."

My laugh, a loud roar, escaped before I'd even had the chance to stifle it. I would never hear the end of it if Rosalie knew I found her vanity funny; if anything, I found it endearing. To me, she was utter perfection and it was adorable the way she tried so hard to surpass that perfection.

Besides, my heart felt five times lighter at Edward's admission. I'd been sitting on the front porch, waiting and waiting for countless hours, all the while trying not to—and failing miserably—think on Rosalie's tardiness. I'd been… not frightened, but definitely nervous that there was a reason behind her lateness. It was such a relief that it had nothing to do with second thoughts but everything to do with a perfect hairdo.

God, I love that woman.

Edward's eyebrow rose at the sound of my laughter. "I would have thought you'd be bothered by all this waiting around," he said. "I've always pegged you as the impetuous type, but your patience is amazing me."

"Just you wait until you find a gal, Edward. You'll be doing things you never imagined yourself able to do."

His smile was smug. "I highly doubt that. When one can hear the vapid nature and monotony of the female mind, it's no surprised that I'm content to be alone."

"Ah, you say that now. Just you wait."

"If that means that I'll eventually end up waiting on the front porch with a nervous tic," he said wryly, referencing my jittery leg, "then I think I'll pass, if it's all the same to you."

I laughed again, a hearty one that did me good. I really was glad that he was waiting with me. There was something about Edward and his stubborn belief that he was destined to be alone that made a man feel good for finding love. I'm sure I'd been like that once—I couldn't really remember that much about my human days now that I was a vampire—but that had all changed when I met Rose.

All it takes is the right woman to come along and save you from solitude. Hey, it happened to me, and I couldn't be more grateful. One of these days it would happen to him too, and I'd be standing there with an 'I told you so'. I was immortal, I could wait for that.

An image of Rosalie flashed before my eyes, and the jitters returned; no matter what Edward said about Rosalie, my nerves wouldn't let me be until we were together again. I wanted to be with my angel now. Thiswaiting around really _was_ driving me mad.

Edward didn't say anything else after that. He was staring up into the sky again and I wondered what he was thinking about now. It must be nice to have his gift, to know what was running through someone's head at any given moment. Me, all I could do was rip tree trunks in half.

It would've been real nice to know what Rosalie was thinking all along. I still couldn't believe that she'd agreed to this—it was as if I was dreaming. There could be no way that she…

"Emmett?"

I lifted my head to look at Edward. He turned around and I could see that looked annoyed.

"Yeah?"

He rolled his eyes. "Rosalie wants me to tell you that she's ready. We can go take our places now."

Oh, so that's what he was thinking about. No wonder he looked so peeved. Edward hated it when people made him a messenger.

I got to my feet with more grace than anyone would expect out of someone my size. I didn't run—I didn't want to look too eager, but I'm sure Edward knew I was fooling no one—as I made my way around the house. A quick glance behind me told me that my brother was following me, if somewhat reluctantly. I don't know if he really didn't understand why I wanted to do this, or if he was just jealous.

Shoot, if Rosalie had picked anyone else but me, jealous would've been an understatement.

Everything was set up in the back, courtesy of Esme. There was a pair of chairs at the end of a white-lined aisle, along the right side. A small altar, covered in little white rosebuds, was positioned at the very end of the aisle. It was small and cozy—just the sort of wedding I wanted.

Esme was already seated in one of the seats and I assumed that the other one was for Edward since Carlisle would be at the altar as planned. I offered her a small wave and one hell of a smile as I stood before the altar. Before long, Rosalie would be standing beside me.

The jitters still hadn't gone away but, now that I was standing, my leg didn't shake. I had to settle with beating a rhythm against my pant leg with my fingers.

Music suddenly began and I realized that Edward hadn't taken the seat next to Esme like I thought he would. Instead, he was sitting at the piano, his long fingers playing lightly over the keys. I had enough time to wonder just when—and how, actually—they'd gotten the grand piano to stand out in the backyard when she appeared at the end of the aisle.

My breath, as pointless as it was, caught in my throat. I don't think I remembered to inhale again until Rosalie was standing beside me.

I don't have words to say how beautiful Rosalie looked at that moment. Her wedding gown was simple but stunning, the whiteness of the dress almost blinding me. She held a bouquet of handpicked white roses—she insisted—close to her chest, and a shimmery veil positioned perfectly on the crown of her head.

She was smiling at me from across the green, my excitement mirrored in her topaz eyes. As radiant as any bride, there was something more to my angel. Perhaps it was because Rosalie was _my _angel… but I doubted it. She was the most beautiful woman in the world—I dare any man to tell me otherwise.

The soft piano music was picking up pace and I knew what was coming. I'd seen enough pictures, and heard enough of Rose's plans for this wedding, to know what was coming next. The Wedding March, I couldn't wait.

And that's when the sun came out. Edward had been right.

We were alone, the family and I, so there were no real regrets to being caught out in the sun, even if we would have preferred the rainy weather just in case. But, as my eyes remained glued to Rosalie's splendor, I saw that the delicate sparkling off her skin in the sunlight added to the image of my angel bride. Like all that was good and pure in my life, she shone in the brightness of day. So damn beautiful!

The thunderous chords of the traditional music sounded and I wondered if Edward was playing so loudly on purpose, or was it my ears that were so sensitive? My senses were heightened in anticipation, and I figured it was me.

I didn't blink as she started to walk towards me. She was not alone—as we took small steps forward, I saw that she was holding onto Carlisle's arm; Carlisle was walking her down the aisle.

I felt a prick of jealousy at the back of my throat and I had to work to make sure I didn't growl. I didn't like the idea of my Rose holding onto any man that wasn't me, even if it was Carlisle.

But then I thought about the way my life had changed ever since I'd been changed. When I first met Rosalie, she'd been the one to bring me to Carlisle. I guess, in a way, it was fitting that now Carlisle was bringing her to me.

Carlisle left Rosalie at my side before taking his place before us. As the head of our family—and our coven—we'd agreed that it should be him who married us. For Rosalie's benefit, this was the wedding that I wanted her to remember—a wedding she deserved.

Almost possessively, and definitely dependently, I grabbed her hand. I didn't want to give her a chance to get away from me. Not until it was all said and done.

Technically, we were already hitched. Done up all proper in front of a judge, and everything, for the sake of legality. Then again… it wasn't really all that legal if we had to use forged papers to do it but that didn't really bother me any. I'd never really been a stickler for the rules. Besides, to me, and to my angel, _this _was our wedding. With Edward and Esme as witnesses, and Carlisle as our bonder, me and Rosalie would be wed.

Carlisle graciously offered us both a smile, one of pride mixed with love. It was almost as if he was a proud parent, watching his children get married. Which, in a way, I guess he was. Carlisle, from the moment he changed me, was my father, Esme my mother, Edward my brother. And now Rosalie would be my wife.

I felt her squeeze my hand and I squeezed hers back.

It was time.

To be honest, the entire ceremony was nothing but a blur to me. I barely heard Carlisle's voice or any of what he said—my attention was on Rosalie and Rosalie alone. I think I would have stood there, her hand in mine, for all eternity if she hadn't tilted her face up so invitingly.

I didn't know what was going on, but I had one impulse: to kiss those ruby red lips of hers. So I did.

We broke apart to the sound of applause. During the kiss, Carlisle and moved to stand by his wife, and Edward. Carlisle and Esme were clapping their hands together. Edward, after some prodding from Carlisle, joined in.

And I grinned.

The wedding was over. We were officially husband and wife. Rosalie was _mine_.

Her precious bouquet of white roses was clutched to her chest as she smiled triumphantly back at our family. Gracefully striding down the narrow aisle in the midst of the yard, I watched as her gloved hand beckoned me to follow. I didn't waste a second before loping after her. It didn't matter where we were going, as long as we went together.

I would follow her to the ends of the earth if I had to.


	4. control

Disclaimer: _The characters in this story are the property of Stephenie Meyer and are only used for fan related purposes. The lyrics included at the top of this chapter are © 2005 to Nickelback; no copyright infringement was meant._

_--_

**Eighteenth Story**

--

_Show me what it's like  
To be the last one standing  
And teach me wrong from right_

--

**Fairview, Oregon, 1958**

It was raining again. Big surprise.

I paused in my wanderings, claiming shelter under the striped awning of the local grocer. Like an animal, I shook myself, trying to force most of the rainwater off of me. I could feel it dripping down my neck, dampening my shirt and staining my pants. How annoying. Alice hadn't mentioned anything about rain when I said I was going out to take a walk. Then again, when it rained almost every day in Fairview, I guess it was something she didn't think she _had_ to mention.

There was a little old lady standing just inside the store, sweeping the floor. I watched as she looked up at me, a gentle smile switching to an expression of terror as she tucked the broom under her arm and scurried away. I snorted. She probably thought I was some big juvenile delinquent, looking for a place to get out of the rain, but then she got a better look at me and was afraid.

As she damn well should be.

But I was the furthest thing from a cruddy JD. Still, I easily dwarfed her, a fact I'm sure she was aware of. And not only that—despite the beautiful nature that came to one of my kind, there was definitely something alarming about any of us. Unless there was something seriously wrong with her, there would be no reason why she'd offer me refuge; if anything, _she_ needed refuge from _me_.

My throat burned as it always did when I was so close to a human but, after almost twenty-five years, I could control the fire. I barely noticed it as I stepped back out into the rain; instead, I let the cool rain fall into my face, squelching the flames.

Of all the places I've lived in since being changed, I think I hated Fairview the most. I couldn't explain it, either, not when Rosalie asked, or when I felt Edward probing inside my head. There was something about the city that made me uneasy, and that uneasiness made me worried. I was Emmett McCarty Cullen—I never got uneasy.

Ever since we relocated, ever since we came to this rinky-dink town, I'd felt… _off_. I hadn't told any of my family, though. Carlisle got a good job just outside of Portland, and Fairview was small enough that the temptation wasn't that bad for the rest of us—especially Jasper. We'd made a stop off in Alaska a couple of years back and, now, we were trying to get along in a more populated area. My newest brother was trying his best to behave.

Funny, but it was me who was having the hardest time here. It wasn't the thirst so much—I've been hunting more frequently with Edward, just in case—but a… an apprehensive feeling. Like I was waiting for something to happen.

Rosalie, as much as I could get her to understand, said she understood. When I felt like the house was getting too crowded, she let me go out to get air. She talked with me through the night, discussing the temptations she's overcome. She knew me too well; she knew a storm was coming and she was trying her damndest to help me through it.

With my angel at my side, I could overcome anything. I just wish I knew what was coming.

Absently, I rubbed my throat. The burn wasn't subsiding.

The rain was slowing but I knew not to be too glad. The clouds didn't look like they were letting up anytime soon. I'd be lucky if I just dried off before the rain started to fall again.

I'd hoped my walk across the town might've made me feel more comfortable. Compared to this strange, antsy feeling, the rain was nothing. But, as the rain stopped and I stepped out onto the street—I'm pretty sure that old lady heaved a sigh of relief to see me go—the bothersome feeling only grew stronger.

It was pointless to continue. It was getting dark out as it was, just past twilight, and I'd been out since early morning. Rosalie went hunting with Alice and Jasper—he went hunting even more than I did—and she had to be home by now.

There was a park across the way and I headed towards it. Our new house lay on the other side of the acres of trees, protecting us from prying eyes, protecting idiot humans from thirsty vampires.

Eager to see my Rose, I started to run through the park. It was late and it was rainy. No sane person would be out in the park on a night like this—I could travel through the wooded area at any pace I pleased, confident I wouldn't be soon.

I was wrong.

The smell hit me at once, overpowering me in a way I was unaccustomed to. I was normally too strong, too used to the heady scent of blood, to falter but, suddenly, my strength didn't mean diddlysquat.

I wish I could explain how it made me feel. Clichés didn't do this sensation justice.

Nostrils flaring in an attempt to breathe in more of that damn delicious scent, I stopped running immediately. Instead, I crouched down, eyes wide as I prepared to hunt.

I couldn't stop it.

There were no obstacles between me and my intended. I dodged easily, effortlessly through the trees, desperate to find the source of the scent. Determined to have a taste.

Even in the haze of this sudden bloodlust, I recognized this state. It had happened once before, this feeling of irresistible temptation. The rich, sweet scent of the blood calling out to me, begging me to drink it.

I'd still been weak in those days and I succumbed to the siren call of the blood. I hadn't been able to control myself and I'd devoured the poor elderly woman before she'd had the chance to scream. There was no pain and, while I'd been a sloppy eater all my life, I hadn't spilled one drop of the precious blood.

I only noticed what I'd done when the drained corpse of the woman hit the dirt with a soft thud. When there was nothing left to devour, the hunter fled and Emmett returned.

I was forgiven, of course, when I confessed to Rosalie and Carlisle. I wore the shame in my blood red eyes and, when the scarlet finally was replaced by the gold I knew all too well, I swore I'd never lose my control again.

_I lied_.

She was sitting on a bench, her back to me, when I found her, alone and entirely vulnerable.

Good, the monster inside me thought, only one victim.

This girl was a hundred feet away from me—I could hear her heart beating from place amongst the trees—and I was already imagining her dead.

With the temptation this strong, she _was _dead. There was no other choice; not for me, not for her. I had to feed on the sweet, sweet blood.

I didn't growl as I stalked the girl because I didn't want to frighten her before she died. Make no mistake—I _was _going to kill her. But it would be quick. Painless.

She never saw me coming.

It wasn't until I'd drunk ever last drop of this poor girl's blood that I saw the face of my kill. She was a young girl, no more than sixteen, with skin as pale as mine. In another time, I might've thought she was pretty with her delicate features and long brown hair, but it just made her look like the pitiful victim I'd reduced her to.

But that wasn't the worst of it. Her eyes—big and green—were not shut. They were wide open, in fear and in shock, as she stared accusingly at me.

She was left lying on the ground before the bench, an open journal and a pen strewn on the dirt beside her.

Appetite slaked, the monster was satisfied—he had no reason to stay. Emmett returned my sense returned and I had only one response to the sight of the dead body: I had to get away from those eyes.

I started to run then, and I didn't stop.

We'd only been in Fairview for a little while. In the decade that followed Alice and Jasper joining our little family, us Cullens have had to move much more frequently. It wasn't a good idea to stay in one place for too long—for one thing, it was getting harder and harder to explain us all. Three married couples and an Edward… we were one strange bunch, and yet we were forever trying to pass as relations.

Humans could be so gullible—and so trusting.

Wide green eyes staring up at the never ending dark sky…

I roared, putting on an extra burst of speed. But, no matter how fast I ran, the realization of what I'd done kept up with me. The demons were hot in pursuit; the guilt plagued me. I'd killed again, something I'd sworn I'd never do, all to satisfy my hunger.

Without making a conscious decision, I ran in the opposite direction from home. There were a couple of rivers in this area and, if I made it to them, I could wash some of this stench off of me.

_Stench_… I say stench but, even with my belly burning with the warmth of that girl's blood, I was delighting in the sweet, savory scent. I was a monster, I was well aware of that—if I had the chance to do it again, I would. In a heartbeat.

I think that—that certainty mingled with remorse for my actions—was what made me howl this time. I howled as I ran.

And I didn't go home.

--

"Emmett Cullen!"

Rosalie found me as I'd known she would. I couldn't leave her any more than I knew she could resist hunting me down. I was hers as much as she was mine; it was no surprise that, only two moonless nights since I lost control, she'd found me.

I didn't even have to look up to know how I would find her. Like she had during my weak moments as a newborn, Rosalie would be standing above me, her hands on her hips and her expression stern. The image from those times was burned in my mind—and, more often than not, I'd been able to resist.

Twenty-five years a vampire and I'd failed. I fell off the proverbial wagon… I'd lost control.

I didn't say anything, and I didn't move. I kept my place in the dirt, on the ground. It was a secluded alleyway I'd found, my home for the past few days. I didn't know where I was, or how far I'd run, but she found me. I knew I should rise, stand up and hold onto Rosalie, but I couldn't. She was far too good for me; I couldn't sully her with my filth.

I stayed on the ground. It was the only place I deserved to be at—silently groveling, entirely guilty at Rosalie's feet.

"Emmett, look at me," she ordered. There was steel behind her voice, but also heartfelt emotion.

And I was powerless.

I lifted my head, suddenly wishing my mess of black curls was long and thick and straight instead. Maybe then they would hide the truth of my sin.

I saw the vivid red, the twisted burgundy of my eyes reflected in the serene gold of Rosalie's own. I don't know how she could stand to look at me. I couldn't and, out of frustration, I smashed the stagnant puddle that was at my side. I didn't want to risk spying my own reflection in the dirty water.

She sighed and the sound was like a dagger to my heart. "I'd hoped…" she began before shaking her magnificent head. "They found her body, Emmett. It's been assumed she was mauled by a bear that strayed from the mountains." Snorting, she added, "Humans can be so blind, but we knew better."

I don't know what repulsed me more: my actions or the fact that I wasn't being held accountable for them. Well, I was—Rosalie, my family… they knew what I'd done.

Rosalie looked down at me, a sad smile on her face. "Why?"

My voice was low and rusty as I answered her; I'd have plenty of time these last two days to understand my mistakes. "Remember New Brunswick?" In a vain hope, I wished she would say no. If Rosalie thought that this was the first time I lost control of myself, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

But she _would _know—vampires didn't forget.

The small intake of unnecessary breath was obvious. "Again?"

"It was stronger this time," I admitted. I couldn't explain any more than that. I didn't want to. At least the woman in New Brunswick had been old, had lived her life. This girl was just a child.

Quickly, before I saw those green eyes flash before my memory again, I asked, "How did you find me?"

"Alice." I should have known. "She saw you here. Edward wanted to come but I refused them both, I came alone. I didn't need them," Rosalie said, her voice warming up considerably—for the first time in days, I felt hopeful, "I'd find you anywhere. But I shouldn't have had had to." And now came the scolding; it was inevitable. "Why did you run?"

I'd asked myself that same question in the two days I'd hid. Like a dog, I was licking my wounds. I'd sworn I'd never lay a hand on a human again and I'd gone back on my word. I didn't deserve to stay with the Cullens.

I tried to explain that as best as I could to Rosalie, watching the way her beautiful face did not betray what she was thinking at all. Most of what I was saying sounded like garbage, even to me, but I wasn't in the habit of talking about my feelings. It was a good thing that it was only Rose who came—I don't think I could face Edward, or any of the others right now.

When I finished talking, I waited for Rosalie to say something. I was still on the ground, refusing to move, and it surprised me when she lowered herself so that we were eye to eye.

"Perhaps," she said finally, "we should leave the family and live on our own."

It gave me more hope that she'd said 'we'. "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course I would. I love you, Emmett. No matter what you do, or where you go, I'll be with you. Always."

I was on my feet, my arms tight around my angel, before she'd known it. The guilt was shoved aside as nothing but love and adoration filled me. I didn't deserve Rosalie—but I was going to hold onto her for all I had.

"It might do us some good to take a small vacation from the others," I rumbled, my mouth against her ear. "We never got a real honeymoon, right? We'll find them later, meet up with them after they've… moved on from here." I was grateful for Rosalie's nearness; I craved it, and it kept the ghost of the green-eyed girl at bay. I wouldn't forget my weak moments but I didn't have to live as the monster, the hunter.

I would be Emmett again. I'd been forgiven before and I was forgiven now.

Rosalie laughed then, a seductive sound that warmed me to the core. "As long as we're together," she promised, "I'll follow you anywhere."

Rosalie, my saving grace.

Rosalie, my angel…

She took the words right out of my mouth.

* * *

Author's Note: _Well, there's the fourth chapter. Only one to go!_

_This short takes place a good time into Emmett's tenure as a vampire. I feel like, when he first got changed, his voice would be more human—full of slang, regional dialect, etc. However, after being around through so many changed—including living with the others, and picking up on their mannerisms—I would think his manner of speech and thinking would begin to change. Hopefully, through his early journeys, that was conveyed in these few shorts._


	5. rosalie

Disclaimer: _The characters in this story are the property of Stephenie Meyer and are only used for fan related purposes. The lyrics included at the top of this chapter are © 2005 to Nickelback; no copyright infringement was meant._

_--_

**Eighteenth Story**

--

_These city walls ain't got no love for me  
I'm on the ledge of the **eighteenth story**  
And oh I scream for you_

--

**Forks, Washington, 2004**

"Rosalie?" My voice echoed throughout the front room of the house, but there was no reply. "Rose?"

Huffing, I took a detour through our prop of a kitchen, cut through the living room and even poked my head in the den. There was no sign of my blonde angel.

Her absence made me anxious. My hands curled into tight fists as I took to the stairs. Taking them two at a time, I headed upstairs in search of Rosalie.

She's insisted on staying home from school that morning, despite the overcast skies, for reasons of her own. I couldn't handle spending the whole day without her so, during lunch, I'd skipped out myself. Alice saw nothing out of the ordinary happening to Rose, and Edward suggested I leave her alone, but she was my wife—my other half. It made me crazy—crazier than normal, some would say—to be apart from her; it made me tense not knowing the motives behind her decision.

Edward refused to tell me, but he had to know. He had the ability to get into all of our heads, so I knew he had some idea why Rosalie was acting so anti-social all of a sudden. I'd threatened to knock the answer out of him at lunch but he'd just smiled that infuriatingly smug smile he had and said that Rosalie wanted to be left to her own devices and, if I really wanted to know, it was up to me to ask her.

It was her business, he said.

Ha! Edward had no idea. When he finally got off his high horse and found a girl he loved even half as much as I loved my Rose, maybe then he would understand that anything that was her business was _my _business too. I bet if it was _his _girl who was acting strange, he wouldn't even hesitate to read her mind and find out what was wrong.

Me, I had to handle it the hard way. Sneaking out of school, running all the way home—Edward wouldn't give me the keys to his precious Volvo—and hoping that she would be there when I arrived… that was what _I _was doing.

Except I didn't think she _was _there. I couldn't find her anywhere on the first floor, and I hoped to hell she was upstairs.

Despite my rush, I kept my step light on the staircase. I didn't want to sound like an elephant thundering up to the second floor; if she was avoiding me, or anyone, I didn't want to send her running in the opposite direction.

There were a great many rooms on the second floor—Edward's room, Alice's room, Carlisle's office…—but I knew where to start my search: mine and Rosalie's room. If she was anywhere in this house, I was certain she'd be in there.

The door wasn't locked and I took that as a good sign. Even though I'd tried to be quiet on my way up, I'd already run around the downstairs calling her name; if Rosalie wanted to keep me out, she could've very easily locked the door. Not that that would have stopped me from getting in—it wouldn't have—but at least I would've known that she wanted me out.

Turning the handle, I opened the door. And there she was—sitting on the edge of our bed, Rosalie was right inside.

I heaved a sigh of relief. I didn't know what I would've done if she wasn't in there.

"Emmett." She didn't even look up at me; her attention was on something resting on her lap. I narrowed my eyes and, surprised, I recognized what it was: an old, yellowed with age, wedding dress. What was she doing with a wedding dress? "What are you doing here?"

There was no warmth in her voice. Taken aback by her greeting, I hovered in the doorway. Maybe it wasn't such a brilliant idea to run home to check up on her.

"I was worried about you, Rose. It's not like you to just skip school."

As soon as I said that, I felt foolish. What did it matter, really, if she didn't make it to Forks High School every day? We missed a handful of days every few weeks because of the rare sunshine—what was one more? We've already graduated from high school so many times that I've lost count. One day off wouldn't do any harm.

My siblings tell me that I can be very impulsive, and I know they're right, especially when it concerns Rosalie. I would do anything for that woman and sometimes my reason and judgment can be clouded by my love for her. As she remained sitting on our bed, her eyes purposely not meeting mine, I was beginning to think that this was one of those times when I should've just listened to Edward.

"Do you know what day today is?" Her voice sounded very far away as she patted the fabric she was holding on to.

My first instinct, in a normal situation, would be to say it was Friday and then make a joke about the question—but I didn't. I knew Rosalie well enough to know when she was in a joking mood and a "say the wrong thing and I'll rip your head off" mood.

She was in _that _kind of mood.

So, quite unlike me, I stopped to think about the answer as I hesitantly approached her. It wasn't her birthday, and I knew for sure that it wasn't our anniversary. I'd forgotten our anniversary once and only once—and I'd never do that again. But the wedding dress had to be a clue to her strange mood, but I was absolutely positive that it wasn't our anniversary, not any of them.

I looked at the wedding dress that was in nestled in her lap. As I watched, she was absently stroking the decades old material. It was of a simple style, not as outlandish as some of Rosalie's more recent wedding gowns, and, no matter how long I stared at it, I couldn't even remember ever seeing her wear it.

In fact, I didn't recognize it as one of Rosalie's dresses at all.

And that's when it hit me. I knew _exactly_ what day it was.

How could I have been so damn inconsiderate?

Rosalie seemed to know the exact moment when I had my revelation, though I didn't say a word. Without lifting her head up, she began to speak.

"Seventy-one years now, and counting," she murmured, resting her hand in her lap. Nimble, pale fingers clutched at the dress as if it was a life preserver. And, to Rosalie, I guess it was—it was one of the only ties to her human past that had left. "And I've never once regretted what I've done to them."

_Them._ The humans who attacked a beautiful young woman, beating her and leaving her for dead. Letting her bleed out on the street, where a compassionate vampire came alone, took pity on her broken body and changed her into my angel.

And they call _us_ monsters…

"They deserved it," she continued, her voice as hard as steel and just as sharp. "But it never should have happened the way it did. None of it."

There was a daring note in her voice, like she was daring me to say something about the way she'd stayed home on today of all days, clutching a relic of her past and wallowing in what had happened to her. She lifted her head up, but she didn't meet my eye; she presented me with her profile as she stared at something across the room.

There was nothing daring about her face, though. Her lips were turned down, her eyes hesitant. There was a softness surrounding her features and I knew then that there was nothing across the room that she wanted to see—she just didn't want to look at me. Despite sounding cold and emotionless, she was hurting, feeling the pain anew. And, worst of all, she was trying to keep me from it.

My heart was breaking as I saw the vulnerable look on her beautiful face. I had the feeling that, if she _could _cry, she would be tearing up. That wasn't like her at all and I felt my hands tremble in justified rage. What I wouldn't have given in that moment for Royce King to be alive so that _I _could kill him.

I hadn't known Rosalie when she was Rosalie Hale, the violet eyed beauty of Rochester. I didn't meet her until she'd been changed, the violet turned to gold, and the warmth of her humanity cooled to a bitter chill.

But it didn't matter. Confronted with the pain of her past—pain that she chose to suffer alone, tucked away in her bedroom on the anniversary of her death (and rebirth)—I wasn't thinking rationally. I was thinking like the protector I'd vowed to be when I married her.

It didn't matter that, when she died, I was living in Tennessee, unaware that my soul mate was suffering. It didn't matter that I couldn't have done anything to change what happened to her…

It only mattered that my angel had been hurt and I hadn't been able to save her.

Though, in the deepest recesses of my mind, tucked away where even Edward wouldn't find it, I knew I was, as sick as it sounds, partly grateful for Rosalie's tragedy. Without the betrayal of that King scum—I couldn't even bring myself to think of him as her fiancé—I would never have met her. Emmett McCarty would have died in 1935 at the hands of an irritable grizzly, alone and without ever knowing the greatest love he'd ever known.

I never told her that I wouldn't change a thing about our pasts, even if I was able to, if it meant that we never would have met. Now, with that yellowed, thin, out of date dress lying in her lap, I silently promised both of us that I never would make that admission.

Instead, I told her what we both needed to hear.

"You saved me, Rose, but no one was there to save you. I wish I could've been there, I would've ripped him to shreds," I said, almost growling my anger. That part was undeniably true. "I would've saved you."

For the first time since I found her in our room, Rosalie looked right at me. I don't know if that was regret in her eyes, or curiosity, the look was that fleeting.

She remained quiet for a moment, and I wondered if I'd said the wrong thing. I never wanted to hurt her and I was beginning to think that intruding on her today might've done just that.

But then, slowly, she picked up that stolen bridal gown that she'd been clinging to and set it down on our bed. Her eyes never left my face as she stood up and approached me.

"But you have, Emmett. Don't you know that? In every way possible, you saved me." Her mind was still heavy with the memories, but she was able to offer me a ghost of her smile as she tilted her head back invitingly. "You're my hero."

It was a good thing that Rosalie was a strong, sturdy vampire. Otherwise, there would've been no way she could survive the bone-crushing bear hug I gave my wife.

My angel.

_My _hero.

* * *

Author's Note: _And, there we go. Four times when Rosalie saved Emmett—and one time she let him be the hero ;)_

_I want to thank everyone who came along for the ride with this experiment. Your reviews were very helpful (and more than appreciated) and I just hope I just did this pairing justice. It was fun, and I definitely have a greater love for Emmett now (as if he wasn't one of my favorites before, heh)._

_Here's to hoping that there are some really great E/R scenes in _Breaking Dawn_!_


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